


Unsaid Words

by AccidentalAvenger



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Last words, M/M, Self-Hatred, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:10:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2580956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccidentalAvenger/pseuds/AccidentalAvenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone was born with words on their wrist. The last words your soulmate would ever say to you, scrawled on your wrist. Everyone had them; regardless of if they ever met their supposed ‘soulmate’ or not. The words would be there; romantic, platonic or non-existent. The words were hope.</p><p>Unless you were Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsaid Words

All his life Grantaire had known he was a freak.

Everyone was born with words on their wrist. The last words your soulmate would ever say to you, scrawled on their wrist. It was a mystery how the words got there or what purpose they served but they were always there, clearly - or not-so clearly written when a child was born. Sometimes the words would fade without reason - maybe the death of a potential soulmate but more often than no new ones would appear soon enough. Everyone had them; regardless of if they ever met their supposed ‘soulmate’ or not. The words would be there; romantic, platonic or non-existent. The words were hope.

Unless you were Grantaire.

Grantaire didn’t have words. He had nothing. He had clear, blank wrists, blue veins running underneath the surface. As a child he had waited and waited for the words to appear but they never had. Other children had called him broken and unlovable and Grantaire had believed them. Even his mother had been tentative around him; like her son was an inhuman monster. Grantaire knew he was incapable of being loved or of loving.

So he scrawled unintelligible words on his wrist and he drank.

He drank his feelings away. He drank away any hint of affection, any softness and he kept to himself.  
It was difficult and he had failed a lot. His friends (was he really capable of friendship?) plotted and planned; seeing a blazing revolution and a bright future but Grantaire saw nothing. For him there was the only light at the end of the tunnel was the ignition spark of a musket.

How his friends had hated that idea. Especially, Enjolras who shone impossibly bright and beautifully. For Grantaire he represented everything he could have loved. Les Amis had insisted that things would be better, that there was hope but they had words promising a future written on their wrists while Grantaire saw only blood and skin and scars.  
And he had been right.

The barricades had fallen; he knew that the moment he opened his eyes to the silence of the Corinth. As he slept drunkenly it had been loud, gunshots and screams echoing around him. Grantaire had slept through it easily but the silence told him something was wrong and he awoke with the sick realization that his friends, the only people who had made Grantaire even consider that he could be loved, were most likely all dead. He couldn’t even feel proper grief, just numbness and a sickening certainty.  
He stumbled upright, suddenly sober and too shocked to take in his surroundings until he heard the order.

"Take aim!"

His head jerked up and the bottle fell from his hand as he saw Him. Apollo. Enjolras, standing proudly by the window facing a squad of soldiers. The man’s red jacket was ripped and stained darker red by the blood of their friends but he still looked like an avenging angel.

The words fell out of Grantaire’s mouth before he could even think.  
“Long live the Republic! I am one of them!”  
All heads in the room jerked round to stare at him but he ignored the National Guardmen, focusing on Enjolras, on only Enjolras. The man looks shocked and inexplicably fear had appeared on his marble like face at the sight of Grantaire.

"Run," he mouthed silently but Grantaire gave a stubborn shake of his head.   
“I am one of them,” he repeated, more firmly this time and Enjolras closed his eyes, looking like he was in pain. Like the monster he believed he was he had slept through the death of his friends but his last action would be human. Grantaire was determined for that at least.

The Guards stepped aside silently as Grantaire passed, letting him through. He didn’t take his eyes off Enjolras who stared back at him, his expression unreadable. A dim ray of light fell across his face, illuminating it and making it the beacon Grantaire followed blindly.  
As he took his place beside Enjolras there was a low cough from one of the awaiting executioners.  
“Finish us with one blow,” Grantaire spat venomously at the Guards. There was a slight gasp from Enjolras and Grantaire felt hot with embarrassment. He had overstepped, risen above his place.  
"Do you permit it?" he asked quietly, turning back to Apollo. Enjolras’ face changed from expressionless to wonder and he looked at Grantaire like he had never seen the man before.

"Take aim!" came the order once again as Enjolras took Grantaire’s hand, intertwining their fingers and pressing their palms together. Grantaire glanced down surprised and saw his words, clearly written in his own handwriting on Enjolras’ wrist. Disbelieving he looked up as the Guard shouted "Ready!"  
The clicks of the gun’s safety hammers barely registered as Grantaire stared, stunned, at Enjolras. The other man gave him a slight smile - filled with sadness, apologies and unsaid things but also with warmth, with love and with hope. It was the most honest of smiles and it meant more than any words could have.

"Fire!" 

As the gunshots sounded Grantaire finally understood. He understood that he wasn’t a freak and that he was capable of loving and being loved. And he knew that the smile Enjolras had given him, and the warmth of their clutched hands was worth all the soulmate words in the world.   
The world faded away around him but his answering smile did not.


End file.
